Pickles n’ Juice

Pickles n’ Juice
The boys are floating green bumpy pickles in their juice. “It tastes pickly!” Asher states. I think it looks as though deceased bumpy toads are floating in an acidic bath, but I clearly refrain from letting the boys know what is on my mind. This week has been, to say the least, TRYING. Take all the books about positive parenting, unconditional parenting, mindful parenting and burn those lessons this week and leave me standing stranded without tools as a bad mommy nor the mommy I am or want to be. I know, some weeks are just like that. I couldn’t believe the things that came out of my mouth and the intolerance I had. “It’s hard to be a parent today,” agreed my husband the other day. So what was in the drinking water? Sleep deprived parents, a crying and upset 21-month-old boy who is weaning, a three-year-old pre-schooler and a mom on a crazy non-dairy, no refined sugar, no white flour, no caffeine diet per doctor’s orders. So both Finn and I were unable to get what we wanted. “Nuuuur,” whined my son as he dove down into the crook of my arm…”Coffee,” I whined every morning as I boiled water for my fourth cup of green tea.

Yes, I’ve made the decision to wean the littlest cowboy and we are both teary about it. I know mothers who have stopped earlier and I know mothers who have stopped later. In my true opinion, there is no right time or wrong time to wean your baby. You have to do what’s right for you. For me there are a few factors that have made me realize this decision. Although we are ending a connection, I know that we will both need our wings. I am heading out of state to attend a close friend of mine’s wedding, and I am thrilled to have some alone time. It will be the first time I’m away from the little one and he’s over a year and a half. I cannot believe the international traveling gypsy in me has not traveled in so long. So I am weaning because I didn’t want to leave him without his own comfort strategies. Little cowboy has always been a snuggler and in fact this week, even though we have cut back on nursing, he still runs to my arms and does an adorable body tuck again my chest where he snuggles in close and tucks his hands down against his body and mine. Grin. “He won’t remember,” a friend assures me. “That was the hardest six weeks of my life,” states another friend. I never had to wean the big cowboy because I went back to work after three months and at 10 months he didn’t want to nurse, he preferred the bottle. “You were pregnant and your milk changed,” stated another friend. So it was easy. This weaning, is not so easy.

Today when Asher was running down Main Street in his new sneakers and his new silver airplane backpack, you would have never believed that this little one was part of the crankiest mix of hooligans. “Hi!” he greets and waves to every busking street musician, Fed Ex driver, bookstore owner, teenage street hooligan, or anyone that looks him in the eye. He has no idea that as he’s running down the street so fast, that I am so afraid. The world is not always a friendly place. But that’s a topic for another post.

Today when Finn climbed up on his step stool in the bathroom after greeting me, he didn’t linger or hang on me to pick him up, nurse, or snuggle. He requested to “teeth”, brush his teeth and “pit” (spit) in the sink. And he did just that. After witnessing this picture of independence you would have never believed this little imp was hanging from the mommy tree all day.

And now, as the boys are eating pickles and drinking sour juice I think some days and weeks with children are just like this. As a parent I am at times a floating ugly pickle in a swirl of sour juice but we all still adore, tolerate, and enjoy each other in the mix. What’s the saying? When life gives you lemons make lemonade. Or, maybe, life is like a bowl of cherries. Nah that’s not it: Life, unconditional love, and parenting is like a sour pickle in a sweet sea of orange juice.

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